GEEZ, I feel like such a nag, but when, oh when, will I go to watch Roy Jones Jr. perform with the reasonable expectation that I might also see a fight?

Certainly not tonight, although it seems not to matter to the 5,700 or so who bought tickets to what is being billed as the first-ever sporting event in the 67-year history of Radio City Music Hall.

According to promoter Murad Muhammad, “We got hundreds of calls from people who say they’re normally afraid to go to fights,” which means Jones will work tonight either before a better class of people or a roomful of cowards.

Just kidding. But truthfully, Roy Jones is boxing for people who don’t like fights and who get squeamish at the thought of violence.

In a way, he is the perfect match for Radio City’s Great Stage, built as it was for the showcasing of the world’s more genteel arts.

Jones is more the old soft-shoe than the old one-two, a ballet dancer who happens to do his act with a pair of 10-ounce gloves on.

He seems happier showing off his abs — and his ability to uncork flurries of blinding but light punches — than to just set down to business and plant a solid one on some poor sap’s kisser.

It’s not that Jones isn’t capable of doing serious damage — just ask Montell Griffin — it is just that if he can win without hurting the other guy, or, especially, getting hurt himself, he will do it.

That’s great for Jones and great for the bleeding hearts at the American Medical Association, but it doesn’t do a heck of a lot for a sport that is starving for a spectacular attraction.

Jones is a spectacular talent who specializes in boring fights.

This is not entirely Jones’ fault, because the truth is, there is nobody within 20 pounds of Jones in either direction who can come close to matching his natural gifts.

Then again, the ones who might — all of whom are heavyweights — well, Jones has no intention of getting within 20 miles of them.

That is all within his rights. Every time Jones fights, it is his body, his future, his career that is on the line; not yours or mine.

In case you have forgotten about the inherent dangers of professional boxing, you need only wind the clock back a month to remember the Stephan Johnson tragedy.

But the hard truth about the fight game is that truly to prosper in it, one has to be willing to accept a fair amount of risk.

Most nights, Jones chooses not to accept any unnecessary risk at all — the most dangerous part of his fight night is usually climbing the four steps to the ring — and as a result, probably gets less respect than a fighter with his gifts deserves.

Tonight’s scheduled 12-round exercise with David Telesco will probably be no exception, unless Jones really has allowed Telesco’s street punk persona get under his normally thick skin.

Jones would have to ratchet down his skill level a notch or three to make a fight of this one, which is probably more likely than the converse — that he fight up to his full ability and put Telesco away in the fashion in which he is capable of.

Telesco has been hounding Jones for a match for months now, and his 23-2 record is no more or less distinguished than any of the other top light-heavyweights, none of whom I can name without consulting a record book.

This is not due to ignorance, just disinterest in a division that has rarely held a lot of interest, and rarely as little interest as it does right now.

Jones has pretty much cleaned out most of the familiar names — James Toney, Reggie Johnson, Virgil Hill, Mike McCallum, Merqui Sosa and Vinnie Pazienza — and the unfamiliar ones, like Graciano Rocchigiani and Darius Michalewzski, don’t stand much of a chance, either.

In 41 pro fights, Jones has been brilliant, dominant and even dazzling, but his career has provided only two moments of real suspense.

The first occurred in the moments after Jones hit Griffin while he was on the canvas, as the crowd waited to see in New Jersey boxing boss Larry Hazzard would have the guts to disqualify him. He did.

The second came when Jones hit the deck from a Lou Del Valle left at the Felt Forum, and the crowd waited to see if Jones would get up. He did.

That’s been about it, and yet Jones still gets little respect, especially from boxing’s old-timers.